


Chimera

by TheCareBear42



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCareBear42/pseuds/TheCareBear42
Summary: One-shot.  The Blight has been over for months, yet Lucas Cousland struggles to sleep and his wife, Queen Anora, struggles to understand.  Can Lucas ever have peace in at night? Or must he be doomed to battle the nightmares every time he closes his eyes? M!Cousland x Anora





	Chimera

**Author's Note:**

> I own Lucas. All else to Bioware and EA

The light was on again.

Anora noticed this, her nose crunching up ever so slightly as she cast a disapproving glance at the light flickering out from the bottom of the wooden door; that sodding light was on again which meant that her Lucas was awake. He was locked in his study, working on Maker-knows-what in the dead of night.

Anora sighs and rubs her forehead, trying to forestall an oncoming migraine. She did not know why Lucas continues to fail to come to her bed and sleep with her as a married couple should. During the day he is sweet and attentive. He can match her blow for blow, not only in wit but also in charm. He can successfully negotiate a trade agreement as well as subtly insult the Antivan ambassador without the prudish man realizing it.

But as soon as the sun dips below the horizon, Lucas Cousland becomes a different man. He is cold and stand-offish. He takes his precious candle and barricades himself in his study, until the wee hours of the morning, where he reverts to his old self. Anora could not make heads or tails of his behaviour and she has half a mind to barge into that Maker forsaken study of his and demand to know what ails him.

Glancing at the door again, Anora’s eyes narrow slightly as she moves towards it. Raising her hand, she raps her knuckles against the hard wooden door. “Lucas? Lucas are you in there?” she calls out. Silence greets her. Sighing, Anora raps on the door again, harder this time. “Lucas, open the door. I know you are in there.”

Silence greets her again. Shaking her head, Anora’s shoulders droop and she turns to go, when the door opens slowly. Looking over her shoulder, she gasps at the sight before her. Instead of the sharp and bright blue-grey eyes that Lucas normally has, dulled and tired eyes gaze into her green ones. Turning fully, her eyes scan his features. The bags under his eyes are all too evident; making Lucas seems older than he really was. His black hair seems to have lost its luster, looking coarse and brittle. He blinks, his eyes struggling to open again and he licks his dry lips. “What?”

Anora blinks and bites her bottom lip. She reaches her hand out to cup his face, her thumb gently rubbing on his cheek. Lucas sighs and closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Maker’s breath, Lucas,” she breathes, concern all too evident in her voice.  
Lucas turns his head to the side, kissing her palm gently as he places a rough and calloused hand over her soft and dainty one. “I’m sorry love. I’m sorry you have to see this, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

Anora’s eyes widen as her nose flares. “Didn’t want me to worry? You failed in that regard, O mighty Warden!”

Lucas chuckles humorously. He stands up straighter with considerable effort and pries Anora’s hand from his face. With a gentle tug, he draws her into the study, closing the door behind her. The study looks the same, Anora remarks. Bookcases still line the wall opposite the door, the desk in the center of the room has that damnable candle on it, and the curtain is drawn back, causing the moon to cast its blue glow into the room. The only difference she noticed was a makeshift bedroll against the wall furthest from the door.

“You’ve been sleeping in here?” she asks, motioning towards the bed with her head.

Lucas follows her gaze and shrugs. “Not entirely, no.” He lets go of her hand and leans against the wooden desk for support, crossing his arms over his chest.

Anora lets her arms hang at her sides as she licks her lips. “What ails you, Lucas?”

Lucas drops his arms from his chest and runs a hand over his tired face. “My dreams, Anora; or more specifically, my nightmares.”

The Queen cocks her head to the side, a quizzical look donning her face. “Nightmares? That is why you fail to come to my bed? Nightmares?” When he nods his head, Anora steps towards him, concern bubbling up in her chest. “Lucas,” she breathes, cupping his face in her hands. Lucas leans into her touch, bringing his arms around her to pull her even closer. Her hands drop from his face to wrap about his body, her cheek against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. “What sort of nightmares? Are they about Alistair?” she asks, her voice soft.

Lucas snorts. “Alistair and his actions do not consume my thoughts anymore, thank the Maker. He has made his bed and he must lie in it. I think time in Weisshaupt will be good for him, regardless. Though, he is lucky I did not strike him down.”  
Anora pulls back just enough to look up at him. “He’s lucky that I did not strike him down.”

Lucas chuckles softly, his chest rumbling. “My dear, both your father and I would have tried to hold you back. But that is the nature of women. We would have drafted you into the Wardens rather than your father. I know you would have scolded the Archdemon . . .” he trails off, a mask of sadness coming over his features.

Anora blinks and snakes a hand up to his face again. “Lucas,” she begins.

“Sorry love,” he says, interrupting her. “It was a joke Fergus made to mother the night that Howe attacked.”

“Is that what plagues your dreams?” she asks, her thumb stroking his cheek.

“Aye,” he mutters as he leans into her touch again. “That and the Blight. I know there are things I haven’t told you about the Blight or the Grey Wardens, but they are hard to explain. Only a Warden could really understand.”

“Lucas, I am your wife,” Anora begins sternly. “You and I rule Ferelden together and I love you, you charming and insane man.” Lucas chuckles slightly at this but makes no attempt to interrupt her. “You can tell me anything,” she continues. “I will try to understand. You say that there are things that only Warden’s would understand, but I am your wife. We share a deeper understanding and connection than any Warden could hope to have.”

Tears leaks out of Lucas’s eyes as he lowers his head to press his forehead against hers’. “You shame me with your words,” he mutters. “I have been a fool.”

Anora, with a powerful feeling of empathy and understanding swelling in her chest, presses her lips to his tired eyes. “Come to bed, Lucas. You can tell me everything in the morning.” When Lucas opens his mouth to protest, Anora interrupts him. “Do not worry about your nightmares. There is nothing that you and I cannot handle together,” she says, putting his fears to rest.

Lucas smiles and kisses his brides’ forehead. “You are too good to me. Only the Maker knows what I would do without you.” He pushes himself off the desk and Anora takes his hand. She leads him towards the door, before she stops and turns around. Letting go of his hand briefly, she stalks back to the desk and blows out the candle. Turning again, she takes her husbands’ hand and leads him to their bed, closing the study door behind her.


End file.
